The Nine Year War

Oh, Jasmine.

The nun expelled you through numerous gates.

The detective found himself in the wrong part of town.

The eighth is near.

Revolution in the streets, the ninth.

Men of four who saw it all.

Flames spread, licking at those who dare to burn.

Skeletons seek to douse the fire.

I told you not to stop.

The organs drip freely.

Choking the adversary.

The rain was not so gentle this day.

Stairs lead in blank circles.

Empty rooms, over and over.

Do not trust the man in the white shirt.

Trust not those born with eights in their eyes.

Grab the broom handle.

Squeeze it by the trigger.

Eradicate the dastardly devils.

Wagner blessed her with wings.

Hands shake at the presence.

Lips dry at the thought.

Atoms scatter and dissolve.

That’s a rather dated opinion, sir.

The grocery store has no ambience.

The shelves hold nothing.

A diner filled with familiar faces.

Beware the stranger.

After all, you don’t belong here.

Regain that consciousness which was stolen.

The neighbor is plotting.

Bury them soon.

The meaningless flag.

The wind refuses to let it fly.

Behold, the fruits of your labor.

That great firebird, skirting high above the tidal waves.

Crashing into a lone island.

Light engulfs the bay.

The king, clad in crimson, is no more.

The doors open to you.

You may return.

The time you’ve lost, however, will not.

Welcome back, Jasmine.

We have so many hellish tales to tell you.